


A Game of Want and Wanting

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Free Folk culture, Implied/Referenced Sex, Locked In, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being locked in a storeroom gives Tormund and Brienne a chance to hash out the finer details of their relationship, even if Tormund would rather being doing anything else but this "talking".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Want and Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> Includes mentions of book!canon Tormund’s sons, but obviously of younger age to fit in with Tormund’s 37-year-old actor.

“Looks like we’re trapped for a while.”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the Giantbane’s sly tone, his lascivious smile making clear just what was on his mind. She gave one last shove against the jammed door, but when the heavy ironwood refused to budge, she reluctantly admitted defeat. Gripping Oathkeeper’s hilt, she turned around to face the small storeroom’s other occupant.

Tormund’s leer fell away when he saw she was genuinely perturbed, guessing correctly that it wasn’t the right moment to offer a good tumble. He grimaced instead, feeling the itch to act beneath his skin. Free folks were people of action, not talkers like kneelers. But for this particular woman, he was willing to make an exception. “Something wrong, lass?”

“What is it you want?”

“Food to fill my belly, enough ale to keep my whistle wet, a good fight now and then to keep my blood pumping, and a woman to keep me warm at night. What else does a man need?” He flashed a grin, hoping to see a hint of humor in return.

Her face stayed blank, however, her lips pursing into her a frown. “You’ve had what you wanted, but you continue to come around. What else is it you want from me?”

Oh, he’d had what he wanted, and done his utmost to fulfill her desires as well. They’d been gentle, rocking together sweet and slow; they’d been rough, tussling about in his or her furs until Tormund found himself on his back more often than not. It was the most he’d enjoyed being with a woman in ages, and he was certain she’d been enjoying him. Despite his general befuddlement, an inkling of understanding was leaking through.

“If it was a southron man that was sharing your furs, what is it that you’d expect him to want from you?”

Brienne hesitated, but they had always been honest with each other since this whole thing had begun. “He’d want my father’s seat. Just like the rest of them have.”

Tormund had spent enough time among kneelers to know “seat” referred to a castle and lands. “And what would you want from him?”

This time, Brienne met his eyes when she answered. “A son to take Tarth back from him.”

“I’m not such a fool as these southron men, Brienne. I’ve no wish for a castle, especially one that’s your right. As long as ye want me in your bed, I’ll give your warmth and I’ll give ye pleasure, but I won’t force ye to stay at my side.” _As if I could_ , he thought fondly. She was strong and robust in a way none of his previous women could measure up to.

Even fierce Gyda- stealing her had nearly cost him his manhood before he’d even had the chance to plant Toregg in her belly- and sweet Dorthe- he fondly remembered her attempt to slip a knife between his ribs during Dormund’s birth - hadn’t ever bested him. But Brienne had knocked him on his arse more than once despite him giving it his all, between her furs and without. What a woman she was.

He gave Brienne a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with the affection clear in his gaze. “I’ll give ye a son if that’s what you’re after. Imagine a lad of ours: tall, strong, kissed by fire. That’d be a sight indeed.”

A corner of her lips twitched into a small smile. “Marching off to war is no time to be swelling with child.” She stepped closer until she wrapped her fingers into his fur cloak, using her new hold to tug him closer, and Tormund was pleased to see spots of flushed pink on her cheeks. “But keep giving me truth, Tormund Giantsbane, and if you choose to stay, mayhaps we’ll discuss children someday.”

“Aye.” Tormund wrapped his arms around her, deftly unbuckling her sword-belt and carefully letting it and Oathkeeper drop onto a stack of bagged grain. “It’ll be hours before they come looking for us. Shall we keep each other warm while we wait?”

The sword-calloused fingers that slipped beneath his layers of fur and buckskin gave him his answer.

And if years later, there was a lad by name of Galladon, tall, strong and ginger-haired with astonishingly blue eyes, that’s another story all together.


End file.
